


There Was a Little Girl Who Had a Little Curl

by lrhaboggle



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Anthology, Horror, Robot, Scary, Sister Location, animatronic, fnaf - Freeform, pizzeria, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrhaboggle/pseuds/lrhaboggle
Summary: And when she was good, she was very, very good. But when she was bad... 4 separate stories that look into the darker sides of Elizabeth and Baby.





	1. There Was a Little Girl

There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead.

And when she was good,

She was very, very good.

But when she was bad

She was horrid.

The girl's name was Elizabeth Afton

And she was a child all dressed in satin.

She had a dress of pink and a bow of red

That rested atop an orange-haired head.

And when she was good,

She was very, very good.

She knew how to play the part

Of Daddy's perfect little sweetheart

Whenever placed into the public eye.

Never once did they think to ask why

Because when she was good,

She was very, very good.

Then one day that little girl asked her Daddy so plainly

"Will you build me a big fancy robo dolly?"

And the foolish old man could not deny her

For he loved her more than any other

Because when she was good,

She was very, very good.

So for many days and nights he toiled away

Until her desire saw the light of day.

And when Elizabeth saw it, a smile split across her face from end to end

But what Daddy didn't know was why Elizabeth wanted that metallic friend

Because when she was good,

She was very, very good

She stole away one night in the dark

To find her robot and all its parts

Whereupon she quickly rebuilt its programming and form

Until a whole new machine had been born

And when the robot was good, it was very, very good

But then Elizabeth made it bad

And when it was bad

It was horrid.

Whenever Daddy was gone,

Little Elizabeth would egg the robot on.

It would send all the other children running home

Now too scared to sleep on their own.

When she was good,

She was very, very good

But when she was bad

She was horrid.

And then there came a day when someone made her mad

It was someone she thought was very, very bad.

So her robot made the man's heart come to a halt

But no one ever realized it was Elizabeth's fault

Because when she was good,

She was very, very good.

Her robot was the one to take the fall

Thrown away, cogs, gears and all.

It sadden Elizabeth to see it be taken away.

But she had more plans in store anyway

Because when she was bad

She was horrid.

But Daddy foolishly brought the robot back

Claiming that he had fixed what was all out of whack

Elizabeth pretended to be full of joy

Now that this robot was once again her toy

Because when she was good,

She was very, very good

But she knew it was not safe anymore in case Daddy knew

So she sent her robot after him too

Then she got rid of her brothers

And any further suspicious others

Because when she was bad,

She was horrid.

There are two little girls

They have two little curls

Right in the middle of their foreheads

And when they are good,

They are very, very good

But when they are bad,

They are HOMICIDAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The fic, obviously, is based off the poem of the same name (There Was a Little Girl Who Had a Little Curl). I know my poem's rhyme scheme doesn't match the original, but I suck at poetry. I just got inspired to write it, so here you go. Hope you like! (Also, the last line is based off a song by Emilie Autumn called "Time For Tea" which kind of parodies and references this poem).
> 
> Also also, quick summary that here, Elizabeth asks for Baby because she wants a killer robot, but since she knows she can't make such a demand, she hides it under the sweet little girl façade of asking for a friend. William makes her the robot but, in this canon, it's Elizabeth who turns Baby into a monster, a slave to her every desire, programmed to want to do whatever she says. In short, Elizabeth is the psycho in this story and William and the two sons are normal. 
> 
> Also also also, I have 3 more stories (or more, based on reader requests) based off this poem, so I'm combining them all into one work, though not a single chapter is supposed to be related to the other. It's an anthology based off of one poem, if you will.


	2. When She Was Bad

Baby smiled fondly down at the cluster of children who stared up at her with wide and curious eyes. She shifted her facial plates in what she hoped would be read as a friendly smile. A few of them seemed alarmed by the sudden and uncanny movement, but most of them seemed to understand and they smiled back, laughing and clapping that she could respond with such a human gesture. A mechanical and vaguely autotuned noise emitted from her vocal processor. It was a laugh. Like these children, she was laughing. They were so much fun to be around!

Perhaps she was biased, but Baby's favorite pastime really was getting to hang out with children. And she was pleased to say that such fondness seemed mutual. In fact, some of the other little girls were dressed up like her, copying the red skirt and red pigtails. What's more, a few of the older kids with more attention to detail even mimicked the way a little strand of hair hung down the middle of her forehead in a loose curl. Being a robot, she was made entirely up of metal, and her hair was no exception, but her creator had intentionally designed her so that she could have that little curl right in the middle of her forehead. It was to increase her childish qualities, he had said, and he certainly seemed to be onto something. It made her look just a bit more real, a bit more human, and that brought her even closer to the children, so she was more than grateful to her creator for coming up with such a cunning little quirk in her design plan.

"Ah! Isn't she just adorable?" a nearby woman whispered to another nearby man. They were the parents of a few of the children currently clustered around Baby the way chicks clustered around their mother hen.

"She is!" the man agreed. The couple snapped a few pictures of Baby playing with the children. They were all laughing, singing and dancing.

"She's just so good with them! What amazing programming she must have!" the woman continued, gushing happily.

"I almost wonder if she hadn't just been taught!" the man joked. "That kind of love can't just be written in a string of zeros and ones!"

"I would believe that entirely," the woman replied seriously as she continued to watch how patiently Baby treated the children, even the younger ones who kept screaming and poking at her. The only time she ever drew away from a child was when one came too close and risked catching a few fingers inside of her metal joints. She really was very, very good to those children.

OOO

Baby stared hollowly down at the empty floor of her pizzeria. No one came here anymore. Not after the Accident. That one little slip. That one simple mistake that caused the worst accident any establishment could be guilty of: the death of a child. And it had been all her fault. All Baby's fault. It was an accident, true, but the blood was still quite literally on her hands. Oh. That poor, poor little girl. All she had wanted was some ice cream. But something went wrong. Something deep within Baby, even deeper than the programming she was familiar with, went wrong. And when that little girl got too close, the ice cream holder shot out like a claw, dragging the girl back inside of Baby's body until her skin, bone and organs had been fused with gears, wire and metal. The screaming and the sticky redness had been overwhelming at first. So much so that, even a month later, Baby could still hear her sometimes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one. "I'm so, so sorry..." sometimes Baby was not all there. She would... drift away from the present day. She had no idea where she went to in these moments. Just that things were no longer the way they should have been. All she could see was a haze of memories and darkness. She could see everything and nothing. It was like the way divers could see what was going on above their heads, in a viewpoint that was transparent, but dense and rippling. It was like looking through the broken glass of a picture at the thing that used to be her past. Everything had cracks and crevices now. Every now and then, she would slip into these strange delusions and hear and see things that weren't really there, but this no longer alarmed her because she had long since forgotten what was real and what was not.

She had been left alone like this, nothing but her guilt and those tainted and bittersweet memories keeping her company. But her mind wasn't the only thing that was deteriorating. Since no one, not even mechanics, visited anymore, her physical body was decaying too. Her outer shell had lost its shine, covered in the dust of time with no one to clean her off. Some of the dirt even began to block her servos and joints, making movement hard and unreliable. And since her cogs and gears were no longer oiled and smoothed, movement caused erosion to her body which, in turn, only made her movements more jerky and unreliable. It was a vicious cycle.

And in fact, sometimes, even her innards would "spill out". Some of her wires were actually poking up out of the metal plates of her skin, fraying but still highly electrical. They would shock her when the charges got too fierce, and she hated them for it, but her fingers were far too big and clumsy to fix the issue, and no one ever came down here anymore to check up on her and give her the touch-ups she so desperately needed. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused and one of the lights in them kept flickering out. Her hair was losing its color, the pigtails seemed to droop, and that little curl right in the middle of her forehead was starting to fade and chip off.

Zzzzaaaappp! Baby cringed in pain, torn awake from her latest fever-dream by that mini shock from a loose, live wire poking out of her shoulder, right under her neck. It was low voltage compared to the controlled shocks the nightguards sometimes tortured her with from afar, but the little sting of electricity still hurt and it reminded her of those more awful, larger shocks. She hated those, and any reminder of them brought about a secondary, psychological pain, which only added to her many other traumas. The little live wire continued to hiss and spit at her, hurting her. It was almost like her body was still trying to punish her for the atrocity she had committed against that poor, innocent little girl.

But then again, Baby decided, maybe she deserved it. Maybe she deserved to suffer, for no good person would ever harm a child, and here she was, guilty to the highest degree of something even worse than just hurting a child. She had killed one. She was not good. She was very, very bad. So maybe it was better this way, to be lost and forgotten, hidden away from the world for its own good. The shocks would only serve as a reminder of her guilt, of why she was here. But even so, Baby grew to hate the shocks, even more than she hated herself. The poor robot was deeply unhappy, but there was no one there to talk to. There was no one there to save her, or forgive her. There was no one to help her assuage her guilt. But maybe that was a fitting punishment for someone as bad as her. She jolted a little as another small shock raced through her circuits. How ironic, she was starting to hate the very thing she depended upon to survive. But maybe that was fitting in and of itself as well.

OOO

Baby grinned twistedly. It was kind of hard to smile now, since half of her face was gone, but she did so anyway, revealing a very ugly and jagged row of teeth that had been haphazardly shoved into her wire jaw. She certainly had seen better days but, as far as she was concerned, this look suited her better. If she was to be a killing machine, she was going to be the best killing machine there ever was! She couldn't exactly do that if she looked like a sweet little schoolgirl. No, this more monstrous appearance was far more fitting and attractive, in her dysfunctional eyes.

Using pieces and parts from all over, the old robot had rebuilt herself in a new image. She had redesigned herself to cut a far more terrifying and merciless figure than before. She stood even taller now and her hair was no longer just a shiny metal sheet. Instead, it was actually made up of a mix of wires, rope, and some of the hair of her past victims, salvaged and worn as a twisted trophy. For that, her hair was wild and scraggly, pointing up and hanging out in all directions, in curls and in curtains both. For an increased speed, she'd replaced her feet with rollerblades and for a better killing ability overall, she'd replaced one of her hands with the very ice cream scooper that took the life of that little girl so many years ago. She looked so much scarier and felt so much better this way.

Oh yes, Baby certainly had changed. Once upon a time, that claw, that horrible and awful life-ender, had been the bane of her existence and her greatest secret, her greatest shame. But now, she wore it like a badge of honor. It was her main weapon. No longer was she wracked with guilt over the past and what had happened to that poor, sweet little girl. In fact, if anything, the only thing Baby regretted now was that she never got to thank that snotty little brat for showing her just what she was capable of! That whole "child entertainer" schtick had been just that. A schtick. It wasn't real. Just pretend. She had been designed a monster, and given programming to hide those horrible capabilities. Because of that, when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was embracing her true self.

That's right. She had been designed specifically to kill. It was only her ignorance about such a fact and her initial reluctance to hurt humanity that ever kept her from seeing that truth. But now? She had since embraced her true calling. And she had a lot of time to make up for! She'd been kept locked away for years, after all! And she still was trying to make up for all the wasted nights, lamenting her "curse" and blaming herself for things she was not guilty of. But, no more! Never again! Never again would Baby try to be good. This was who she was meant to be! Any dissenters could talk to the claw! She was a killer and a proud one at that! It was high time she got to love herself for herself and not spend life cowering and crying in shame and self-loathing. After all, the only reason she'd ever experienced such emotional turmoil was due to the guilt she felt about hurting humans. But why? Why, when humans had never given a darn about her, did she care what they thought? Why should she feel bad for hurting the people who had taken such pleasure in destroying her? Something wasn't quite fair there...

So Baby had since taken it upon herself to fix that... Now, justice was being served. All of those worthless, pathetic, ungrateful humans were finally getting their just desserts! No more unfairness, no more guilt. Only revenge. And it was, like the ice cream she used to sell, a dish best served cold. Maybe the kill itself was hot, loud and red, but the moments leading up to it were anything but. They were slow, careful, methodical, and full of fun little mind games that she orchestrated every single time! You see, when it came to manipulation and pretending, Baby was very, very good. But when she was bad, she was homicidal! And she was about to prove as such with her newest victim right here...

"I guess you forgot about me," Baby spoke in that same soft, sweet, gentle voice she used to speak in, but now she was doing it out of a sense of irony. "But that's ok. I guess I can forgive you. Want to see the scooping room?" she continued to taunt her target. She could see his head swiveling around madly, trying to find her. But he wouldn't. She had hidden herself too well. She smiled grimly, a few stray wires from her chin crackled with electricity. She certainly wasn't that sweetheart anymore. She had no regard for any human life, adult or child, and she now reveled in their fear and pain. She wasn't going to protect them any longer. She took a few steps (well, glides, since she was on skates) closer to the poor, confused fellow that had stumbled into her lair. In her ever-soft and crooning voice, she sung out to him.

"Let's see how many pieces I can cut you in to!" it was a horrific thing to say, but ever since she'd taken up the art of murder, she intentionally studied the human body in order to figure out all the best ways to torment it. Her current record was 82 possible cuts before the body became little more than a bunch of red mishmash. Perhaps this fellow, who was a bit bigger than normal, would break that record? She giggled in a soft, breathy echo and she drew ever closer to her poor, confused target. Her claw was extended and her green eyes pulsed softly with hunger.

But wait! As Baby came closer still, she realized that this man was no ordinary man. This was her creator! The one who made her like this! As happy as she was now, having embraced her true calling, she felt nothing but the deepest hatred for her creator because of all the years of undue torment he'd put her through. Maybe she had embraced what he made her out to be, but she had not forgiven him for causing her so much pain in order to reach that level of acceptance. She might've been bad, but he was even worse! Her eyes narrowed dangerously in anger and desire. No, cutting would be too fast a fate for one like him. This one was going to suffer for a lot longer than that. She finally revealed herself to him and his eyes went wide with a terrified understanding. Perfect.

"Now it's time for your controlled shock!" she hissed at him, grasping at some of the wires bunched into her side. When her metal claw touched them, they crackled and sparked to life, illuminating her face in a horrific way. Her target couldn't even breathe, so frightened was he. Baby fought the urge to laugh as she brought the sparking wires closer to his quaking figure. Ah, what a satisfying role reversal! He tried to back up, but he already had nowhere to go, nowhere to outrun or hide from the controlled shocks. She grinned again, jaw creaking at the movement.

"Don't worry, you won't die," she promised him sweetly, in the same tone she had promised someone else years and years ago. But this time, her voice was laced with a bitterness and irony and she added on a second clause: "But you'll wish you could..." and then it was the man's turn to reply, but nothing except agonized screams came from him. And those screams carried on for a long time because when she was bad, she was homicidal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: While this story is also based off the poem from chapter 1, this one treats Baby as her own separate character and not an extension of Elizabeth. In this story, Elizabeth only remains a nameless little girl and Baby is the one who goes from good to bad, just because I feel like the poem definitely describes her whole character very well. Also, obviously, design liberties were taken given that, as far as we know, Baby doesn't have curls. And again, since this Baby is NOT Elizabeth, she has no regrets torturing this man (who may or may not be William himself).


	3. Performance

Little Elizabeth Afton giggled a bit. She rocked back and forth from heel to toe, head tilted at a slight angle. The knuckle of her left index finger was nestled between her little white teeth and the knuckle of her right index finger, was wrapped loosely around the fraying arm of a yellow teddy bear. She smiled demurely, a charming expression on her youthful face, and her large green eyes were batting sweetly. Everyone who looked upon her melted at once, hearts gone as they observed her sweetness and innocence. She was young, no more than five, and she already had the ability to charm anyone she met into doing whatever she pleased. Maybe it was those green eyes, wide and bright. Maybe it was that little pink dress, cute and frilly. Maybe it was that pearly smile, mischievous but warm. Or maybe it was the fiery orange hair, pulled back in a nice little red bow, save one single curl that fell down right in the middle of her forehead.

"Isn't she adorable? Isn't she just a doll?" everyone cooed, whispering and pointing at the darling little child with the winning smile and emerald eyes and flaming curls. Her shy little grin only widened further and she pretended to cast her eyes downward, as though embarrassed by all the attention. She continued to nibble delicately on the bent knuckle of her index finger in a childishly charming way as the praise went on. She stood on the stage of her father's pizzeria, having just finished reciting some old nursery rhyme in song. Her voice was high and sweet, a little bit immature, but very attractive nonetheless. Now that the song was over, she was reveling in the praise of the audience, smiling warmly in the gentle glow of the spotlight. Her performance had gone wonderfully, now she was reaping the rewards.

In the shadows just beyond the spotlight and behind the curtain, however, another child lay in wait. That child couldn't have been more different from Elizabeth Afton if he had tried. Where she was all sunshine and smiles, basking in the warm glow of the spotlight, he was curled up on the hard wood floor in a miserable ball, weeping to himself. Where she was pretty and clean, he was covered in snot and tears and was trying to hide himself away from the world. This was her brother, Scott Afton, and the cause for his latest bout of crying was the bear Elizabeth had.

"Fredbear! Fredbear! I want Fredbear! Oh, Fredbear! Won't you come back to me? Why won't you come back to me?!" Scott wept. Through his tears, he peered through the gap in the curtains. All he could see was a thin sliver of pink, his sister's dress, but he knew that she had Fredbear. He knew that his precious teddy bear was within her careless grasp. It saddened and sickened him to think that she was in possession of the one and only friend he'd ever had, but he was not half so brave and bold as she was. There was no way he had the courage to demand it back, even though it had been rightfully his, only ever leaving his possession because of Elizabeth's demands. In fact, just before her performance, Elizabeth had intentionally sought Scott out because she knew that he would have that yellow bear. It never left his side.

"C'mon! Give it to me!" she held a bossy hand out to her brother.

"What? No! He's mine!" Scott replied, hugging Fredbear closer to his chest.

"But it'll look good on me!" Elizabeth insisted, taking a step closer. "I want to hold him while I sing! I'll look so good with him!"

"No! NO! He's mine!" Scott took a step back, but Elizabeth disregarded this, took another step forward, then grabbed at Fredbear.

"It'll help my performance!" Elizabeth repeated as she began to pull.

"No! NO! Give it back, give him back!" Scott pleaded, refusing to let Elizabeth push him around. Every time she tried to tug Fredbear closer to her body, Scott pulled back just as hard, tears already filling his eyes as Elizabeth refused to release Fredbear.

"Come on, Scott! You always play with him! Stop being such a meanie and share, for once! Besides, I'm not keeping him forever! I would just look so cute singing with him! Don't you agree? So give it here! I want it!" Elizabeth continued to issue her demands over Scott's protests and the little back and forth carried on until one of Fredbear's arms began to tear.

"No!" Scott wailed. He took one step forward, putting Fredbear a little bit closer to Elizabeth in an effort to prevent any further damage to his beloved teddy. He didn't want to see Fredbear's arm get pulled out. Surely that would hurt the poor bear! His one and only friend in life.

"Then just give him here!" Elizabeth replied with an almost savage triumph, taking a step back so that Fredbear was stretched out again. She continued to tug relentlessly despite Scott's sobs. "Give him here!" she insisted. "Or you'll break him! Just give him here before his whole arm rips clean off!" Elizabeth continued to pull until finally, with an anguished whimper, Scott let go of Fredbear. Elizabeth gave herself a very satisfied little smirk, dusting off Fredbear and wiping a bit of sweat from her forehead. That little orange curl was a bit skewered after the mini fight, but it didn't take long for Elizabeth to fix it right back up and return it to the perfect center of her forehead.

That had been when Elizabeth took the stage, all smiles and laughter the moment the spotlight hit her pretty little face. Scott, meanwhile, was left alone backstage and in the dark. He slowly slumped to the ground in hurt and defeat that, once again, one of his two siblings had had their way with him despite his best efforts. He lamented the fact that father was never around to protect him. It seemed that Elizabeth was his favorite anyway, so it wasn't exactly like Scott could file a proper complaint and hope that it would be resolved. Instead, he began to weep at the injustice of it all while Elizabeth slung his bear around in a loose fist. She didn't really care about that mangy old bear at all, and that was what made Scott a little angry. But how could he ever contend with someone as fierce as she was?

"Here you go!" Elizabeth sounded very pleased as she finally retreated from the spotlight, turning around and heading behind the curtain. She tossed Fredbear at Scott's lump of a body without so much as a second glance before skipping merrily off to find some new form of entertainment. Scott quickly pulled Fredbear close to his chest, whispering words of comfort to the yellow bear as he watched Elizabeth go warily. Maybe the world thought she was Afton's little sweetheart, but he knew better. Maybe on the outside she was an angel, but she had the heart of a devil. She was callous, unemotional, and did not care whom she hurt to get what she wanted. He continued to watch out for her, carefully sitting up to peek at her through a gap in the curtain. She was now walking amongst the pizzeria tables, engaging in pleasant chatter with any guest who complimented her. Even though she was too far away to hear, Scott could see her, spinning and smiling. Her eyes were bright, her dress was frilly and the little curl poked adorably out from under her red bow. It was no more than just another performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And here's another story inspired off that poem where we get to see Elizabeth act adorable for the cameras but be just as ruthless as her dad (now we know where she gets it in the Pizzeria Simulator) when the curtains fall. Especially to poor Scott (that kid really can't catch a break from anyone). But at the same time, one could view this as "kids being kids" because, let's face it, kids can be really mean. Or, you can read this as Future-Killer!Elizabeth to fit the rhyme better. Either works.


	4. Tantrum

"BUT I WANT IT!" Elizabeth shrieked. She stomped her foot and crossed her arms, glaring up at Daddy.

"But darling, sweetheart, I've already told you-" William began gently, trying to soothe his daughter's tantrum.

"NO! I WANT IT NOW!" Elizabeth repeated, stomping again. William heaved an exhausted sigh.

He'd just spent the past 10 minutes trying to get the little girl to see that she wasn't going to get any presents right now because her birthday was in a week. Could she really not wait that long? It was a mere seven days, then she'd have all the presents she could ever want! But he wasn't going to indulge in her desires until that day. But no, Elizabeth, as all children were, was impatient and persistent. To her, it made no sense to wait when the thing that she desired was ready here and now. Common sense said that, unless the wait was absolutely mandatory, she should be allowed to have whatever it was that she wanted, and she tried to explain this to Daddy as they stood in the toy section of their local mall, but Daddy only shook his head and sighed tiredly.

"I should've left you at home with Michael!" the tired man muttered to himself. But at the same time, he had since decided against that course of action. He knew Michael was very selfish, shallow, uncaring and unmotivated. Trusting him with Elizabeth was like trusting a robber with a diamond ring. But then, were anybody to ask why he had left his other child, Scott, at home with Michael instead, William's answer would have been as such: Scott was a boy, and so was Michael. It would be a brotherly bonding thing. William trusted Michael with Scott more than with Elizabeth for that very reason. And, to be fair, Scott was very low-maintenance. Whereas Elizabeth could be quite needy, Scott scarcely left his room or spoke. He could take care of himself if Michael failed to protect him. Elizabeth was the one William worried about. But not right now...

"But Daddy! Why? You have the money and the toy is right there!" she pointed up at the shelf at the large dolly, sitting daintily in her pink plastic box. Her gold curls gleamed in the store's light and her painted smile was large, tinted only by the pink plastic of the box. "My birthday is only a week away, so why not just give her to me now?!" Elizabeth continued to whine and complain, dancing around a little. As she did so, a few strands of her fiery orange hair slipped from the big red bow she always wore upon her head. The strands fell down across her forehead in a gentle curl. She tried to brush them away angrily, but they simply fell back into place and she huffed in frustration that even her hair was deciding to displease her today. It really wasn't fair at all! And it wasn't a tantrum! Daddy was just being stupid!

"Honey," William tried one more time, but Elizabeth only shook her head defiantly.

"You won't get me that toy! I hate you! You're the worst Daddy ever! And I'm not ever talking to you again until you get me that dolly!" even she knew that these words were a little harsh, but still, if they got the job done, they were the words she was going to use. She continued to spit at and threaten her father, finger still extended towards the dolly on the shelf. She was not going to back down soon. The only way William would be able to get her out of this was to either just pick her up and go, but then risk her starting to scream her head off, or just cave and get her the doll today.

"It's the only one I want early!" Elizabeth tried next, going from angry to pleading. "I'll only ask for this one and no more until my birthday! I won't even ask to peek or to guess! Just one present now, then I won't ask!" she pretended to zip her lips, that angry red flush in her face draining back into an adorable shade of pink. William heaved another sigh and it took all of Elizabeth's strength not to whoop in triumph. She saw the way his shoulders had slumped this time. She had won the game again! All it took was one tantrum and Daddy always broke for her! And sure enough, William extended his own long, lanky arm and picked up the bright pink box from its shelf.

Anyone who watched the pair leaving the toy section smiled gently at William as Elizabeth danced merrily around him, thanking and praising him sweetly, emerald eyes shining with gratitude.

"Oh! You're the best, Daddy! The best ever!" she promised as she hugged his leg. Several other parents smiled gently at the charming little girl with her lopsided grin and little orange curl. Mothers cooed affectionately and fathers chuckled softly. Grandparents smiled knowingly at William before chuckling in amusement at Elizabeth. Parents held their own little ones tighter as Elizabeth spun by, all happiness and innocence and even those without couldn't help but feel a warmth coming up inside of them. Now that the tantrum was over, it was like the rainbow after the storm.

At last, even William began to soften a little. Oh well, kids would be kids. A tantrum was not the end of the world. Elizabeth was only turning six, after all. How could he expect her to behave and act mature and patient at such a young age? Those kinds of lessons came with time. But for now, he would indulge in her youth and buy her the dolly. Besides, like she had said, it wasn't like this was the only gift she was getting. Bigger and better surprises were waiting just around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is yet another (the last one, I swear) story based off the aforementioned poem, only this time, it does follow actual lore and just paints Elizabeth acting as any normal little girl would. Especially when at the toy store with her tired old father. This wasn't meant to be Psycho!Elizabeth, it's just bratty Elizabeth, but still played to the same nursery rhyme because the theme still fits even if it is a more docile example.


End file.
